


He is not Empty, He's a Good One

by Lizzyis



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: But caleb's getting there, Emotional Hurt, Episode 26, Fix-It, Grief/Mourning, Hopefully we wont need fix it fics soon, Introspective Caleb, M/M, Making a deal, Mostly Caleb realizing things about Molly and himself, Pre-Relationship, Protective Mollymauk, Protective Mollymauk Mentioned, Realization, Resurrection Theories, Sacrifice, Sad with a Happy Ending, Selfless Caleb, Spoilers, Temporary Character Death, post episode 26, post s2e26, s2e26
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 15:29:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15318525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizzyis/pseuds/Lizzyis
Summary: After the events of the attempted take down of Lorenzo (and the spectacular failure that followed), Caleb has to come to terms with what happened to Molly. Or does he? Maybe it's a good thing Caleb spends so much time in his head with his impeccable memory. Sometimes, just sometimes, there are some good ideas in there, and some slow moving realizations about his own feelings.Spoilers...(I.E. one of the many possible resurrection fics floating around out there that will have to hold us over until next Thursday and we actually get some answers, cause we wont believe it's true until we absolutely have to)





	He is not Empty, He's a Good One

**Author's Note:**

> I really shouldn't have to say this, since you probably already know this if you're here, but if you haven't watched episode 26 there are spoilers ahoy, just you know, be aware.
> 
> Honestly some of this was spurred on by own attempt at dealing with the last episode and my refusal to let Molly go, and the rest was equal parts influenced by the look of sheer devastation on Liam's/Caleb's face when it happened and the possible ways for the whole thing to be resolved (and by that I mean FIXED because damn it do we need him back).
> 
> There is a bit of introspection on Caleb's part because that boy needs to work through some emotions okay. I may do the reverse next time from Molly's perspective or just a continuation from where this left off, who knows.

This had happened because Molly was trying to protect them, he’d been doing it all day. Caleb sensed Molly near him when he looked through Frumpkin’s eyes, Caleb belatedly noticed Molly step slightly between him and that awful bug creature. He was used to pain, was used to injury, maybe stepping up to be the front man in battle was the only logical thing Mollymauk could think to do. With Yasha and Jester missing, maybe he thought it was up to him to take up those mantles. _He shouldn’t have. He should have stayed where it was safe._ The voice in his head is his own for once, but ragged and raw, angry. Caleb tries to shake it away, there’s something wrong about being mad at a dead man. _A dead man._

For a moment it's hard to breathe as he sees Mollymauk in his mind's eyes, back in the dirt, an obtuse smile and spiteful glimmer in his eyes before there’s nothing, once again Mollymauk is empty. _But was he ever?_ Caleb thinks. He never acted that way, how could he when he gave so much to the Mighty Nein? How could he give, what could he give, if he was empty with nothing of his own.

Molly, bright and show-stopping, he gave Fjord his companionship and his plans. He gave Jester smiles and tricks, and hope in the form of card readings. He gave Beau a challenge and acceptance of her everything. He gave Nott advice and aid in the ways he knew he could. What he gave Yasha, was too numerous and too hidden to name, but it was clear he had given her a friend by how they breathe easier in each other’s presence. As for Caleb himself, Molly gave him support, a forehead kiss in a smoke-filled cave, a shoulder when his sight goes dark, an offer to help supply him the materials he needs, a kind voice of support in a murky swamp, a cheer from across a crowded tavern, a hand around his waist in a dark prison cellar. He gave Caleb much, more than a man like him ever deserved.

No, Molly wasn’t empty, at least not when he joined them, he was more than any of them knew. It was Caleb that was the empty one, he had given nothing and nothing to give. _It should have been me,_ he thinks in a rush of emotions. Then he blinks, Caleb, who believes only in his own self-preservation, who needs to ensure his own survival, who has a plan to undo the mistakes that haunt and hound his dreams, would never wish to take a dead man’s place. But he does. His finds deep in his heart he means it. Molly can do so much more good than Caleb could, and their friends need him more, he’s their bond and what keeps the Nein together. If he had the power to trade or bargain for Molly’s return he would, he thought clearly, he’d even pay the price himself.

Perhaps it’s that startling realization that brings Caleb to himself, kneeling in the cold dirt. He hadn’t moved since Molly went down, too shocked, too afraid moving would prove it was not a trick of his mind.

Molly still lay there staring up at nothing. Hand over hand, Caleb tries to force his leg muscles to move, his right knee locks and he forces his left one to keep moving. His body tilts towards the ground but he never takes his eyes off Mollymauk, his hands caught him and forces himself up. Step after step he crashes to the gravel at Molly’s shoulder.

His breath shutters and his ribs ache at the sight. Bloody, unmoving, lost to him. His hands hovered, unknowing and unfamiliar. _What could he do?_ He wasn’t powerful enough to bend reality, to undo a single mistake, he had no spells for this, he’d never even prayed before. His hovering hand move to the cheek he patted softly not but two days ago. Mollymauk had smiled at being called Magical, the low light glanced off his perfect cheeks and reflected off the red of his eyes, and he had held Caleb a little tighter. The memory rushed back, _I should complement Mollymauk more often_ , _he has a very nice smile_. Caleb wished he had done just that.

He bows his head to Molly’s ear, sage and ash wood brushing his nose.

“I should scold you, you’re too important to risk your life like that, but how could you know how important you are to us when we never told you. That is something I should fix, ja? You remind us life is not black and white, but all colors, just like you, a goddamn rainbow. You are very good at making us all smile.” Caleb felt his mouth turn to a smile, then the muscles begin to quiver, and his nose burns. Telltale signs of tears to come. He takes a quivering breath before continuing, “I like when you smile, and do that, eh, flourish of yours. I meant it you know, when I said you are magical, in everything you do there is just a bit of magic, it is, uh, hard to, look away from.”

Caleb hears Beau approach and knows Nott is not far behind, “I think they like you too, you are, eh, you are good for them. Beau has been learning a lot from you, and Nott, she, well she’s benefited from your,” a laugh more like sob ripped from his quiet aching voice, “guidance as it were, you know, she has only stolen from grumpy people since.” Another sob shutters through him, then another, “tell me what to do, guide me as you have guided them, how can I bring you back, we, we, we need you. I need you, to return the support you have given me. What, what can I do?”

A memory swims to surface, nearly swallowed by the waves of grief and guilt. He remembers those calloused and scared hands gently curling around a symbol, almost moon-like in shape but also looks a bit like the drawn bow, taut string and all. Caleb’s pulls back and lets his hand skim Mollymauk's belt until his hand catches on a similar shape.

He struggles for a deeper memory as he looks at the symbol, a goddess he remembers, there’s something about autumn, but also the voice of a distant teacher listing the outlawed gods. “This one is the Moonweaver. Favored by those would work in secrecy, trickery, and the underground world, for her domain is illusions and misdirection. If you meet one who prayers to her, trust nothing of them.”

His memory supplies what he learned from the books that his teacher left out, _Moonweaver is a deity of love and protector of lovers, some ask for her blessing to keep their love safe_.

“I would wonder what about the Moonweaver drew you to her symbols, but misdirection and love, now that I know you, it is, heh, clearer,” Caleb said as his thumb edged around them symbol.

Then his once brilliant mind catches on to an idea and would not let it go. If they care enough for Molly, love him enough, maybe, maybe the Moonweaver would help her follower, maybe she would protect what the mighty Nein love, maybe she could bring him back. There were children stories of gods bringing back loved ones, he couldn’t recall any about the Moonweaver but he could now remember other gods that had. A lover dove into the eye of the Stormlord to bring his love back. A childhood friend offered her life in service to the Everlight to return her friend. A sibling traded his life for his sister's to the Ravequeen. These stories told the way of the world, nothing is free, a life for a life. He clutches tighter to the symbol in his hand and lets the other card dirty fingers through soft purple locks, over and over.

He’s taken so much life, aided in taking so much more. It only makes sense that he should use his own life to save one, one that would keep five other lives safe. If Molly were here, he’d make sure they went after their friends. He'll save those three wonderful lives and protect them as he had been protecting Caleb, Nott and Beau all day. He’d do it because Molly may have no memories but he has more compassion than most and is a whole person in every way, with flaws and faults, but also strengths and advantages. And he needs to come back, everyone still needs him. He reaches his hand with the symbol to the sky and for the first time in many, many years prays that some god would listen to his plea. He wasn’t foolish enough to think that, after all he had done, he was allowed to have his prayers answered, but he hopes that maybe the Moonweaver would do it not for Caleb, but for Mollymauk, and the rest of the Mighty Nein. They are good people, they deserve good things and the return of their friend.

S _harp White teeth pulled against maroon lips, creating perfect apples of his cheek_. It ached. _Long perfect eyelashes protecting deep red eyes, ones that may be scary to those who see a monster, who see blood, or the hells, or fire, but are actually red like passion, like the heat of a summer storm, red like the sky as the sun dips below the horizon. In those eyes is comfort not fear._ It burned. _The swirl of soft lavender hair that curled perfectly against his temples, his glittering horns, and the base of his tattooed neck._ It pulsed and pierced. _Pearls of laughter and soft, enchanting words, a lilting voice._ _Mister Caleb_. It was empty. Without Molly his heart was empty and the missing space left behind hurts in every way. His chest feels too tight and his throat burns like he drank acid, and his breath hitches, racking his whole body.

He couldn’t be sure if he loved Mollymauk, but the pain and the heartbreak were so hauntingly familiar to when his parents perished, whom he did love, that he hoped those feelings would be enough.

“Do you see this one, he is not perfect, he can be snide, and sarcastic, well too aware of how beautiful he is, but he is good, oh so good. He, he does not fear love as I do, he hides nothing about how he feels, and embraces shadow of all kinds, shadows of people’s pasts, of their misdeeds, and revels in tricks and illusions. He is a good one” the words are beginning to chock him and Caleb is no longer sure if he is praying in his head, or shouting as loud as his lungs will allow. “Please, do not take him from us, can you not see how much he means to us. Let him remain here with us, he is,” he forces himself to breathe, “is the best of us, let him stay. I offer myself instead, they need him more and he” with a chocked laugh he forces his head towards the sky, as his free hand brushes at Molly’s hair once more, “he is better, so I will take his place there, he belongs here”.

A soft voice, practically no louder than the whipping of the wind. So quiet, Caleb could have merely been hearing voices in his head. “Is this what you truly wish?”

A sob courses through him, “Yes, yes, I-” another cuts off his affirmation

Wind whips past him again, followed by the twinkling of a bell. Then the world, Caleb's world is silent, save for his wet sobs, before a laugh cuts through it. Wet and humorless, but unmistakable. “Mister Caleb.”


End file.
